


here is home

by MercutioLives



Category: God Eaters - Jesse Hajicek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Gen, M/M, Meet-Cute, On the Run, Past Character Death, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5230238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercutioLives/pseuds/MercutioLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a universe where Kieran and Ash were never arrested, the two meet under very different circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	here is home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fieldofyellowdandelions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieldofyellowdandelions/gifts).



> This is my Yuletide gift for fieldofyellowdandelions. I hope that you like it, friend: I've never actually written for The God Eaters before, and it took me forever to figure out just what to write. It ended up a lot _fluffier_ than I'd originally intended - but I think these boys deserve some good, old-fashioned domesticity, don't you? (Title from "Here Is Home" by Ryn Weaver.)

Shan was dead. He was _dead_ , and Kieran was on the run. Now that the shock and adrenaline were wearing off, he wasn't even sure how he managed to escape the White Watch, or how much of the blood that plastered his shirt to his skin belonged to those bastards and how much of it was Shan's. Not much was his own, of that he was sure: he had a few shallow wounds from bullets, rocks, and shards of -

 _Fuck! No. Don't think about it. You knew it was gonna happen sooner or later, and so did he._ Kieran swallowed several deep breaths and forced himself back into the present moment. He looked around: he was in a train car that was, surprisingly, empty of the usual transients and criminals. That was good. Meant he could let his guard down just a fraction and sleep, at least until the next stop. Trying his damnedest not to remember the sight and sound of Shan's head being destroyed by a bullet, Kieran Trevarde closed his eyes and drifted off.

_The world is so different from high above. Kieran scans the expanse that stretches for a thousand million miles in every direction, studying the patchwork of colors and textures and trying to figure out which patches belong to what place. He can't, he finds: he's so far away from it all that it's just flat splotches of red, brown, green, and blue, like a map devoid of labels or borders. He thinks he can see the Burn, but it could just as easily be any other river in the world. There's something strangely comforting in this anonymity: all lands are one land, all cities one city, all rivers one river. If only it could always be like this._

Kieran's eyes snapped open when his body registered the cessation of movement from the train. Shit. The car was pitch-black and silent - how long had he been out? He began to reach for his gun before he remembered that he was out of bullets: he'd used them all up in the gunfight that killed -

 _Damn it, stop that. You don't need the gun anyway. You can just kick the shit out of whoever's out there._ Biting the inside of his cheek, Kieran crept to the door of the boxcar and slid it open an inch to peer outside. It was dark outside, and he couldn't identify the railyard straightaway, which meant he was probably somewhere north of Trestre. Great. No ammunition _and_ unfamiliar ground. At least there was no one around that he could see, so he wrenched the door open the rest of the way and hopped down. His body ached now that the adrenaline was gone, and his head was buzzing slightly. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he started to explore the railyard. It must have been later than he thought, since the place was pretty much deserted. Several trains stood immobile, great slumbering monsters forgotten until morning; if he hadn't spent so much time around trains as a kid, the sight would have been eerie. Instead, it was familiar and would've been almost pleasant were it not for the fact that he still had no clue where he'd ended up.

As he walked away from the railyard, he realized that his shirt was still splotched with blood, which had since dried and become stiff. He had no money on him, so he'd have to find a way to steal a new one before he could do much more exploring. He swore under his breath, cursing everything he could think to curse with each step. The longer he walked, the more certain he became that he was nowhere he'd ever been before, and confirmation finally came in the form of a large sign, proclaiming:

**WELCOME TO LADYGATE**

_'Ladygate'? What kind of stupid…?_ He walked past the sign and into the city proper, whose streets were mainly empty. It was crowded with darkened buildings, and everything seemed like it was made on a much larger scale than any city he'd ever been to. Thankfully, it was dark enough that the few people he did pass couldn't see the blood on his shirt. They mostly gave him wide berth, though judging from the way their horrific stares were aimed at his face rather than his torso, he judged that it was probably because he was Iavaian. No one said anything, though: they just gawped and moved on.

Kieran couldn't bring himself to be too bothered: he had to figure out how to get himself a bath, some food, and a place to sleep. Back in Burn River, it would've been as simple as knocking on Shou-Shou's back door, but here he was truly on his own. It was frustrating more than upsetting, but he reminded himself that at least here, no one knew his face. They wouldn't know that he was a fugitive, or really _anything_ apart from a scary-looking native.

He kept walking in a straight line, more or less, until he came to what looked like a residential area. Rows of nice, neat houses - mostly dark, but a couple with lights in the windows - lined either side of the street. It felt more uncomfortable here than in the city proper, like he was somehow intruding. He was just about to turn and go back the way he'd come when one of the doors opened. Out of it came a gawky-looking young man, with a head of frizzy, orange hair and large spectacles that would have gotten him laughed out of town in Burn River. He was in the process of stooping down to place a bowl onto the porch - but as he straightened, the carrot-top glanced up. He saw Kieran right away. _Damn it._

"Excuse me," the redhead called in an accent that was definitely Northern. "Are you alright?"

Kieran didn't say anything, just scowled, but instead of convincing the kid to leave him alone like he wanted, it drew him the rest of the way out of the house. Kieran's eyes had started to become accustomed to the darkness, so when the kid came up to him, he could see that behind the glasses, he had wide eyes of china blue, just (and he cursed himself for thinking it) like Shan's. Except Shan's had never been so innocent, nor so curious. And now Shan's were dead and he'd never see them again.

" - lo? Do you speak Eskaran?" Kieran blinked and lifted one eyebrow, his scowl returning to his face as his thoughts returned squarely to the present.

"Fuck kinda question is that, Red?" he growled, causing the kid to start like a rabbit. Although he was only a little shorter than Kieran, there was something about him that seemed small, helpless: the kind of person the folks back in Burn River would eat alive.

"Oh. Um, sorry. It's just, you didn't answer the first time, so I thought maybe… Anyway, sorry. My name's Ashleigh Trine, so there's no need to resort to descriptive nicknames."

"Congratulations." The kid, Ashleigh, looked startled again, but his lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh. What the hell was his deal?

"Did you…want to come inside? You look like you could use a place to sleep. And a bath - no offense." Well. That was easier than expected.

"You sure you wanna let a big, scary native inside your nice house? You ain't afraid I'll steal your stuff and kill your family?" This time, Ashleigh did laugh, though there was a hint of nervousness to it. Kieran didn't react, just waited for an answer.

"There's not much to steal, honestly, and it's just me and Aunt Isobel, who's a pretty crack shot and sleeps with her hunting rifle by her bed, so I think it's safe enough." Ashleigh gave a serene, trusting smile that Kieran wanted to smack off his face, then turned around and started walking back to the house. When Kieran didn't follow immediately, the carrot-top glanced back over his shoulder. "You coming?"

 _Guess there's no point in looking a gift horse in the mouth._ With a shrug, Kieran loped after Ashleigh. The inside of the house was simple, but clean and much nicer than he was used to. There were a couple of paintings on the walls, which were painted a cheery shade of pale yellow. The low table in the middle of the living room was cluttered with papers and stacks of books, as was the sofa, which looked as though it had seen better days. Ashleigh scurried about, gathering the papers and shoving them into folders in a slightly frantic way that suggested he didn't want Kieran to know what was on them.

"We don't have a guest room, so you'll have to sleep on the sofa. Is that alright?" Ashleigh asked when he returned from putting his things away.

"Fine. I've slept on worse." There was the nervous little laugh again, which made Kieran wonder if the kid was second-guessing his invitation. If he was, though, he didn't mention it, nor did he go out of his way to make Kieran seem less welcome. He had to admit, he'd never known a white man to be so relaxed around someone his color before; it was a stark difference from the people who'd gawked in horror when he'd first walked into town. Which was the prevailing opinion on Iavaians, he wondered. He guessed he'd find that out soon enough.

"Did you want a bath? Or something to eat?" Again, Ashleigh's voice broke him from his thoughts. Now that he was in a more well-lit environment, he could see that Ashleigh's milk-white skin was thick with freckles: his face, neck, and hands were covered. Without his consent, he wondered if the rest of him was, too. He forced the thought from his mind as soon as it materialized. He looked up in time to see the smile slip from the kid's face as he saw the blood on Kieran's shirt for the first time. "Oh. Um. The bathroom's upstairs, first door on the right. I can fix you something in the meantime, and maybe find you some clean clothes. Just…make yourself at home."

Kieran started up the stairs, but was stopped when Ashleigh said, "Wait!"

He arched an eyebrow expectantly, and the pale kid continued, an apology in his tone: "I never got your name."

"Kieran Trevarde. That it?" Ashleigh said that it was, and Kieran continued his way upstairs. The faint sound of snoring could be heard as he reached the top step, coming from behind a closed door to the left. He paid it no heed and shut himself in the bathroom. The house, he was nearly surprised to see, had running water. Then again, this was a white household in what he assumed was a major Northern city, so it wasn't that surprising in the end. He turned on the tap labeled with an "H" and stripped down. Immediately, the hot water began relaxing his tight muscles; he just sat there in the tub for a few minutes before rifling through the various products on a low shelf next to him. He found a bar of soap that smelled slightly floral, and used that on his skin and hair. It took a little while, but he finally got himself clean, the water growing tepid around him. He took that as a sign that it was time to finish up, and pulled the plug on the drain.

Just as he was standing up, there came a soft knock on the door, and Ashleigh poked his head in - only to immediately withdraw.

"Oh God, I'm sorry! I didn't - I just realized that I forgot to give you a towel. Um, here." He shoved his arm through the crack in the door, a towel in his fist. Kieran took it and wrapped it around his waist like a kilt.

"I'm decent," he said drily, amused in spite of himself at the kid's bashfulness. Kieran, having grown up around whores of both sexes - having been one himself - was no stranger to nudity, and had few scruples when it came to bodies in any state of undress. With this tacit permission, Ashleigh slowly pushed the door open further. He had with him a set of clothing, which looked like nothing Kieran would ever wear if given the choice. Not to mention, given that Ashleigh was several inches shorter than him and had a slightly more substantial build - still rather skinny, but not as bony as Kieran knew himself to be - he wasn't sure that whatever the kid was loaning him would actually fit. Still, gift horses and all that. He took the clothes with a nod of thanks. Ashleigh smiled at him and turned to leave, though he paused at the stairs.

"When you're dressed, there's food downstairs if you'd like." Kieran nodded again to indicate he'd heard, and the Ashleigh disappeared down the stairs.

As expected, the clothes - dark slacks and a light blue shirt - were a poor fit: too loose in some places, but short in the limbs, and he was sure he looked like an absolute idiot. He wrung out his length of jet-black hair into the sink and used his fingers as a comb to get most of the tangles out, but he could feel it dampening the back of his shirt, so he braided it quickly (despite having nothing with which to tie it off) and pulled it over his shoulder. Better than nothing.

Downstairs, he found that Ashleigh had prepared the sofa with a pillow and blanket, and was in the kitchen, humming tunelessly as he did whatever he was doing. On the table was a pot of something that resembled stew. It smelled unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, and his stomach growled as if realizing just how empty it was. Without waiting for an invitation, Kieran helped himself to a bowlful of the stuff and scarfed it down. He ate a second bowl more slowly, savoring the taste. It was definitely filling, full of flavors he couldn't quite identify, though he was sure there were peppers of some kind, floating around with big chunks of beef and root vegetables. Ashleigh sat across from him with a mug of tea, watching with unabashed fascination. Kieran couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

"Where is it you came from - Kieran, was it? I mean, obviously you're not from Ladygate." Kieran paused long enough to lift a brow. Flushing pink, Ashleigh clarified: "Your accent is Southern. Besides, you seem a bit…rough around the edges, I guess."

"…Right. Let me put it to you this way, Ash: where I come from is no place you'd wanna be caught dead." The abortive attempt at conversation fell dead, and Kieran helped himself to a third serving of stew.

Once he was finished eating, Ashleigh shooed him away so that he could clean up; Kieran didn't protest. With a fuller belly than he'd had in days, he was feeling sluggish and more than a little exhausted. Ashleigh eventually came back out into the living room.

"Well. It's late, so I'm going to bed. Is there anything else you need before I go?"

"Think I'm good. But let me ask you one thing."

"Yes?" God, the kid looked so innocent.

"You always this trusting?" Ashleigh laughed, this time not at all nervously. There was a brightness to it, a warmth that twisted Kieran's gut.

"Not _always_ , but then again, when you're an Empath it's a lot easier to tell who's trustworthy and who isn't."

"Empath, huh? Your Talent ever steer you wrong?" Kieran had never met an Empath before; it hadn't occurred to him that this kid might even have a Talent at all. There was something about the smile that Ashleigh gave him that was almost beatific, like some benevolent saint offering forgiveness.

"Not once. Goodnight, Kieran. See you in the morning." Ashleigh ascended the stairs, leaving Kieran alone and feeling strangely exposed, though not in a way that was entirely bad. Turning out the light, he eventually curled up on the couch, tugged the blanket over him, and fell asleep.

 


End file.
